


what the wind blew in

by fonn



Category: Dreaming of Sunshine - Silver Queen, 天官赐福 - 墨香铜臭 | Tiān Guān Cì Fú - Mòxiāng Tóngxiù
Genre: Gen, Silver Queen's Dreaming of Sunshine Universe, Slice of Life, set during TGCF ch 243 time skip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-08
Updated: 2020-08-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:02:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25774837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fonn/pseuds/fonn
Summary: Xie Lian is waiting for a ghost. Nara Shikako is looking for her family. They find each other instead.
Comments: 11
Kudos: 207
Collections: Heliocentrism — a Dreaming of Sunshine recursive collection





	what the wind blew in

**Author's Note:**

> what is a time skip if not a liminal space for temporary meetings and new friends. this is really niche so i hope it works without prior knowledge. if you came from DoS you can read TGCF [here](https://docs.google.com/document/d/1DOHF_LchBL5h_d8EJJSmPzGsz1bPYYDcyoVKzciKalg/edit?usp=sharing); if you came from TGCF you can read DoS [here](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/7347955/1/Dreaming-of-Sunshine).

She drifts.

She imagines that this might be what it’s like to use a Yamanaka technique. What is a Yamanaka technique? She has the impression of blond hair, flowers, purple. Everything else disperses, like ash- 

_ no _

-like mist in the wind. Another fragmentary memory — a way to for mist to stay, teasing, the splash of water, the scent of wet dog. 

_ sensei _

A person. Someone she knew, someone she cared about. She pulls herself together piece by piece, until-  _ Shikako! ‘Kako! Shikako-chan! Nara-sempai! _

Nara Shikako finds herself small, and tired, and weak, but most importantly, possessing a remarkably stubborn will to live. 

She is not anywhere she recognizes. She is, as far as she can tell, a floating flame of yin energy with limited influence on the physical world. So she continues to drift, but with purpose. She flits over rice fields and broad, lazy rivers, floats over rural villages and sprawling cities.

Shikako struggles to keep track of time when she doesn’t eat or sleep, but she knows that many days, probably weeks, maybe months, have passed by the time she senses a potent coalescence of energy. 

She muffles herself cautiously — dampens her flames, takes a circuitous route as she climbs the mountain, using the terrain and trees to her advantage. She hides in the forest and watches as the source of the energy — a man — goes about his little cottage and the area around it. He talks to himself as he tends to the trees, weeds the path, or concocts some truly questionable meals. 

Sometimes he would descend the mountain and return carrying a great pile of… trash. He would then sort through them — perhaps this pot could be mended, or this paper, once uncrumpled and unstained, could be usable, here was a splintered piece of wood that could be smoothed over and repurposed. He keeps a few, but the large majority of his upcycled work would be carted back down the mountain and presumably sold or bartered, as he’d then return with fresh produce. 

Shikako stays hidden for perhaps a week. The ambient energy of being in his general vicinity has already helped her grow to perhaps twice what she had had when she first became aware of herself — she can fly faster, and leaves and twigs move as she brushes past — but she thinks, based on what little interactions she’s sensed from a distance, that this is a risk worth taking. 

The faster she grows, the more likely she can conjure some mimicry of jutsu, and from there, find her way back home. (The alternative she won’t dwell on.)

She goes to introduce herself.

\--

Six months into his self-imposed hermitude, Xie Lian gets a visitor.

“San Lang?” 

The little green-blue ghost fire barely has the energy to hover. Xie Lian holds out a hand, hoping, praying. 

They don’t land on his hand so much as drift down like the last leaf of autumn, like the last sigh of a corpse. 

Ah. Not San Lang. This is a young ghost, flames wavering, nearly flickering out. But the single ember in the center, though dim, is steady. This is a ghost that has traveled a long way, and probably has further yet to go. 

Xie Lian feeds them some of his qi in drips, aware that he tends to overestimate his spiritual power after eight centuries without it. 

“Sorry, little one. It’s safer to go slowly. I wouldn’t want to accidentally dispel you.” 

The ghost flies up to eye level, bobs up and down quickly; a nod. Then they dip down to where Xie Lian’s hands would be if he held them out, holds for a moment, and back up; a bow. 

Xie Lian laughs. “No need for thanks. This one is called Xie Lian. Are you tired? I have a pot, oh, somewhere in here-” He finds a jar with a strangely fluorescent pink residue from his last cooking attempt that he hasn’t been able to scrub off, but it smells clean enough. 

The flames flop over to the side. A head tilt, how cute. 

“I can seal you in the pot- just for a little while!” he reassures, seeing the ghost jerk away. “It’s like sleeping, it doesn’t hurt, and you’ll still be semiaware of your surroundings.” But it’s clear that the ghost isn’t convinced. 

“Alright then. I certainly have the spiritual energy to spare. I just hope you won’t be too bored; I live a very simple life, you know.” He chatters as he put the pot away, starts the daily errands that came with a simple, mundane life. “I have to weed the garden today, and it looks like it might rain tomorrow, so I should try to take advantage of the sun while I can and do the laundry early too. Oh yes, speaking of laundry, this is Ruo'ye.” 

The silk band in question slinks from his wrist, affronted, and coils in the corner in a loose knot.

“Ah, Ruo'ye, Ruo'ye, don’t sulk, we have a guest, you’re being too shameless. Are you upset I called you laundry? But you are!” Xie Lian’s voice lilts, teasing. “The most useful laundry, isn’t that right? The smartest, the strongest, the cleanest, the best laundry-” 

Ruo'ye extends, like a cobra displaying its hood, preening proudly, turning from side to side as though to show off its best angles. 

A young girl’s laughter seems to echo faintly through the small, humble room.  _ Success! _

The band of silk flies up, stretching out its “neck” in greeting, which the ghost returns in kind with a boop on Ruo'ye’s “head”. 

\--

The spirit ribbon is interesting. Shikako can sense little fluctuations in its energy in response to stimulation, and it behaves much like a particularly loyal summons animal. (Sometimes, in the night, deer would come down the mountain to nibble at the vegetation, and she had to hold herself still so she wouldn’t scare them away.)

But the point of interest is that it lacks any seals or arrays. As they playfully chase each other around the one-room shack and tease the sword — Fang Xin, which is also apparently sentient — Shikako can see nearly invisible, neat little white-on-white stitches, but they line up neatly — a product of mending rather than sealing. 

After Xie Lian finishes his appallingly stale and moldy bun of a breakfast, they venture out into the morning mist. Dew beads upon the curling tendrils of the herbs and flowers, and leaves the soil damp and crumbling beneath Xie Lian’s heels. He kneels in the dirt with a wide woven basket, heedless of his white robes, and plucks out weeds — runners, roots, and all — with a speed and efficiency that reminds Shikako of Rock Lee. 

Ruo'ye weaves through the growth, holding up clusters of pale purple budding sweet peas for Xie Lian to reach under them. Several times, their movement disturbs a ladybug or spider, and Xie Lian gently rehomes them in a safer location as he thanks them for their hard work. When he finds slugs or pillbugs, he tosses them in the basket with the weeds. 

Shikako watches and follows Ruoye’s guidance to help where she can. Limited as she is, it’s a nostalgic feeling to be doing menial chores. The ache of homesickness sharpens, but the slow and steady progress, the repetitive routine, it smooths over the jagged rift within her.

When the basket is overflowing with weeds and Shikako and Ruoye have rounded up any escaping slugs, Xie Lian stands, and stretches. Shikako winces as his back cracks loudly. 

“Good work, everyone.” He leads them down the mountain, on a side path that leads to a small stream. Next to the river is large, shallow pit covered with dry straw. Xie Lian uses a tree branch and sweeps the covering aside. He tosses the weeds, pests and all, into the compost pit, and spreads the straw back over the pit.

As he rinses his hands in the river, cupping a few mouthfuls of water, Shikako dips into the current and flicks a few droplets at Ruoye. The silk ribbon freezes, then rushes at her. She spins and dodges past, skimming the water surface so Ruoye is splashed in her wake. The ribbon stiffens unnaturally and uses the broad side of the silk as a paddle, smacking loudly against the water like an otter’s tail. 

“Stop, stop!” Xie Lian says, laughing, caught in the middle. “You two are as bad as Feng Xin and Mu Qing, honestly.” His tone is chiding, but Shikako senses him sneakily release spiritual energy into the water, which explodes like a geyser. For half a minute, their little bend of riverbank is rained upon by the after effect of Xie Lian’s action. 

“...oops.” He rubs his head sheepishly and smiles. (The constant longing for her family throbs.)

Then he looks at her. “Eh! Little spirit, you’re a clever one.” 

Shikako shakes her metaphorical head free of cobwebs, and notices that she’s instinctively used her not-quite-chakra to catch the water droplets above her, forming a barrier of solid water to shield herself. She pushes the barrier off to the side and reclaims the energy, water returning to the river.

“Well, I don’t want to burden you, little spirit, but if you could do that again, you’ll be saving me several trips.” 

**Author's Note:**

> given the nebulous status that our favorite corpse princess has with death, i declined to tag the character death warning. if i do expand this further, shikako's calamity name would probably be "black shadows commanding corpses".
> 
> you can find me on twitter @[terafonne](https://twitter.com/terafonne).


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